


Crimson Flash

by Woofemus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woofemus/pseuds/Woofemus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha attempts conversation with Marisa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Flash

**Author's Note:**

> written for fefemslash2016, prompt was legend

For one who spent most of her time in the clergy and healing the sick that came that her, Natasha was beginning to realize that the world was much vaster than she could ever imagine. Natasha had never considered herself a wandering soul like some of her Sisters, she was instead always there to offer a kind smile and warm hand to where her feet were planted down. 

It seemed almost ironic that of all people Father McGregor would entrust his final words of warning to, it would be Natasha, the only one of the clergy who had never traveled out of Grado her entire life. What made her run was the fear of dying without even being to tell one soul of what Father McGregor had died for, the true atrocities Grado was planning. 

Natasha, for the first time in her life, began to take her steps toward the outside of Grado, hounded by her soldiers every inch of the way. Sometimes, Natasha thought back to that time and thanked the gods that she even managed to get as far as she did, to the tiny town of Serafew. 

And from there, Natasha became swept up in far greater than anything she could believe herself to be in. 

It was natural that Natasha took to the healing tents, but what she had never expected was being thrust into actual battles. There were times where enemies were faster than expected and broke through the front lines, and Natasha had barely made it out with her neck still attached to her own head. And even still, she would rush off for the next wounded soldier, healing them instead of her own wounds. 

“Sister, please, you must learn to take care of yourself too.” Princess Eirika had pulled her aside after one such battle, concern wrought all over her face as she spoke. “I am more than grateful that you would put the needs of our soldiers above your own, but you are just like the rest of us as well.” 

Before the war, Natasha would have never dreamed that the Princess of Renais herself would be talking to someone such as her, much less under her command. But Natasha had nodded, a serene smile upon her face, and reached out to lay a gentle hand upon Eirika’s arm.

“Thank you for your concern, Princess. I must ask that you do the same as well.” And Princess Eirika, with dark bags under her eyes, only smiled in slight embarrassment. 

In the medical tents, people’s tongues were loose and open like their wounds, Natasha would learn. She supposed that the only way to alleviate the pain and boredom of laying in bed all day was talking to distract themselves. But she did not mind, for they often brought interesting tales and stories with them. She thought of it as her own way of experiencing the world outside of Grado, of being able to hear the world through someone else. 

“Sister, did you know that we also have the Princess of Frelia with us as well? The way she and that other pegasus knight fly in the sky, you would have thought that they’ve been training together their whole lives! But my buddy, that lucky dastard–ah, excuse my language, Sister–managed to overhear that the Frelian princess has only been training for a few years only!”  

That, Natasha knew. Princess Tana had been a guest to the tent once, and her wound had been so severe that Natasha had to use her staff at once. Even so, the princess was tougher than she looked, had only continued chattering on, to distract herself from feeling the pain of her flesh forcibly mend together.

“–and my brother doesn’t even think I belong on the battlefield, who does he think he is?” Natasha had caught the final huff of the Princess’ tirade once she had finished her healing. The princess smiled sheepishly, suddenly aware that she had gone on longer than she intended, but Natasha only smiled patiently at her, carefully bandaging up the wound. She refrained from speaking but she saw for herself the princess’ true strength already. 

“Sister, did you know… that knight that keeps himself at Princess Eirika’s side… is the very same Silver Knight himself?!” Another soldier began to tell her another day. “Why, if it wasn’t for him, my squad would have died and my arm would be far worse than–” the soldier cut himself off with a hiss of pain instead. Even for someone secluded as her, Natasha had heard stories of the Silver Knight, and  _that_ , she didn’t know. 

“Monsters are back in the world, and I’ve fought one of those damned one-eyed monsters myself!” a soldier had boasted, lifting up the sleeve of his arm to reveal a long deep scar running down its length. “See? I got this from its axe! Lucky it didn’t take my whole arm off!” He guffawed, and Natasha had to quiet him down before he woke up the rest of the tent. She didn’t question him. She had seen one before, and knew firsthand what sort of destruction they could wrought. This soldier was more than lucky that he had escaped with his life. 

“Light magic,” a mage Natasha was treating began to say, her violet eyes sparkling with curiosity as she watched the glow of Natasha’s staff. “They say light magic is born from faith and divinity, but that sounds too vague for me. How am I to believe in gods if no one has ever seen one? Do you think I’ll be able to use light magic one day?” Natasha wasn’t sure how she had answered, but she guessed it was a quiet affirmative, because the mage seemed satisfied and began to speak again, this time explaining anima magic. It was an interesting lecture, but Natasha wished that the mage had done it at another time, when Natasha wasn’t trying to get her to sit still. 

“Grado is done for,” a defected soldier had moaned deliriously as both Natasha and Moulder tended to his side, already nasty with infection. “The Sunstone is dead! His body was left out for the crows! General! What are we supposed to do without you!” 

That, Natasha was not enthused to hear. She had the honor of meeting General Glen once, and the name Sunstone was an apt description of the man. Grado had truly lost one of its greatest generals if the soldier's delusions really were to be believed.

Natasha was privy to so many stories, met so many people and learned so many new things, but there was still one that stood above all the others. 

They were in the middle of battle when Natasha had met her. A mercenary, Natasha guessed, as she had been around enough soldiers now to know the difference between a soldier and hired hand. What took her attention though, was the terrible wound on the mercenary’s side and already, her feet were carrying her there. Any hesitation and she might be too late, as she had learned the harsh way more than several times already.

As soon as she had gotten close enough, Natasha opened her mouth to shout at her, but the mercenary _disappeared._

Natasha blinked, and there was the same mercenary suddenly in front, a woman who seemed both younger and smaller than Natasha herself, her sword swinging--

The woman froze for just a split moment before righting herself. “You… are not an enemy,” she only said simply before turning around.

Despite the near death experience, Natasha found herself already speaking, eyes trained on the wound. “N-no, but I am a healer. Allow me to heal your wound before you go.” She readied her staff—

“No need, I’m still good,” the myrmidon interrupted but she suddenly drew back to Natasha. The reason why became apparent, when Natasha realized there were enemy soldiers surrounding them now. They all stared at each other, tense, waiting. Natasha had her new Lightning tome, but it still nauseated her to think of using it on fellow human beings no matter what. Still… for this situation…

Just as before, the woman disappeared. Natasha blinked, and there was a body on the ground. Another blink, and a second body joined that one. The soldiers began to panic, slashing all about with their weapons, but they soon all met the same bloody fate.

Through it all, she could see flashes of red, the blood spilling out as the myrmidon expertly cut down the soldiers with such  _ease_  that Natasha knew this myrmidon was no  _mere_  mercenary.

The woman finally reappeared again, this time by Natasha’s side, and Natasha’s trained eyes didn’t miss the way the mercenary seemed to shift her weight onto her uninjured side.

“Please, allow me to heal you,” Natasha pleaded once more, and the woman turned to her with a frown.

“… fine.” And Natasha immediately took the chance, bending down to heal the injury. With this sort of wound, Natasha had been more surprised that this mercenary was still even moving! And even as she healed the wound, the only sign that the woman even felt anything was a slight twitch of her body as the skin closed over.

“There, but don’t do anything too strenuous or the wound will open again,” Natasha advised, but she somehow got the feeling that this myrmidon was more likely to ignore the last bit.

“Thanks,” and just as quick as she had proven herself to be earlier, the woman disappeared in another flash.

* * *

The female myrmidon made some more appearances in the medical tent. Each and every time, she still made no noise as Natasha healed over her wounds. The only time she even grimaced was when Natasha used disinfectant, and  _no one_ could withstand that, not even the Silver Knight himself.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” Natasha had asked once.

“That a problem?” the woman asked in such brusque way that Natasha was almost taken aback.

“The soldiers here, they talk to ease their pain sometimes,” she clarified.  

“Ah.” And that was all the myrmidon said in response.

Natasha had met lots of people who didn’t want to share, who were quiet and looked more than uncomfortable being there in medical tent, but Natasha had been understanding every time. She had seen the Desert Tiger himself in here even, a man of few words she quickly surmised, but once they exchanged a few words, his smile had been friendly and warm. But there was just something about this woman that gave her pause.

“Sister,” a soldier had called out once after the female myrmidon left. “You’re better off talking to a wall if you wanna talk to her.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, that’s the Crimson Flash herself! But word has it all she’s interested in is honing her sword skills. She ain’t got no time for anything else, ‘cept maybe for the mercenaries.”

“Thank you for the information,” Natasha murmured, mulling over these new pieces of information.

This woman was a legend of her own as well, the Crimson Flash. She wondered for a brief moment why that name when nothing about the woman was crimson, her locks more purple than red, until she recalled that moment once more, when she was saved and all she had seen was the flashes of crimson spilling from the soldiers.

It now seemed more than fitting, Natasha couldn’t help but think.

The next time the woman came, Natasha decided to try again.

“They call you the Crimson Flash,” Natasha said as she carefully trailed her hands just above the skin of the myrmidon’s leg, healing the gash that extended from the front of the knee to nearly behind the leg.  Even now, the woman’s face betrayed no pain.

“I know.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing all that special.” 

Natasha paused for just a moment before continuing. “Well, to me, it seems very special!” 

The woman paused, looking at Natasha oddly. “ _You_ , a healer meant to save people, would call  _me_ , someone who is only good for killing,  _special_?” 

“Were it possible, I wish for there to be no killing in this world. But even I know that there are two sides to the world, and light cannot exist without the dark,” Natasha replied softly. “Sometimes, offering a quick death with little suffering as you do can also be salvation.”

“… hm. I would have never thought of it that way. Killing is killing no matter what. Strange that a holy woman would tell me otherwise.” Her words were thoughtful now rather than the usual brusque manner she often spoke with, a tone that Natasha had already grown used to. Natasha couldn’t help but laugh softly. This had to be the longest conversation she had with the woman, and she still didn’t know her name.

“My name is Natasha,” she finally said, “since I suspect we will still be seeing each other.” She waited, keeping her ears open as she focused on her healing, but no further answer cane. “May I ask for your name then?” she prompted, “or shall I refer to you as Crimson Flash every time?”

“… no need for that,” and Natasha didn’t need to look to know the woman was frowning. Natasha had learned a few of the woman's mannerisms already. “Marisa,” she answered simply after.

“Marisa,” Natasha tried out, and she smiled as she pulled her hand back, the healing done now. “I’m pleased to meet you, officially this time.”

“… right,” Marisa muttered, frowning as she caught Natasha’s eye and quickly looked away. “I guess the same to you too. Thanks for healing me all the time.”

“No need to thank me. It is what I’m here for after all.” And Natasha let out another quiet laugh as she reached for the bandages off to the side. Marisa looked at her oddly once more.

“I’ve heard so many tales from the many who’ve been in here, often exploits on the battlefield from soldiers who witness the might of ones like the Silver Knight, Desert Tiger, the Frelian Prince, and even of you.”

“Boss is good at his job,” Marisa only added, and Natasha quickly figured it to mean the Desert Tiger himself. She remembered the soldier telling her that Marisa was fiercely loyal to him.

“I’ve seen a few of them in here as well, but you might just be the first I’ve exchanged more than a few pleasantries with.” Natasha let out another smile, beginning to focus on wrapping the bandages around Marisa’s wound. “It gives me a sense of wonder, to know that I can talk with one of the legends around the army.”

“… I don’t care for things like fame. My only desire is to grow stronger in my swordplay,” Marisa said.

“And I would have never known that if I hadn’t started talking to you!” Natasha paused her task, looking straight at Marisa. “Thank you for telling me that. I feel as if I know you a little bit better now.”

Marisa frowned at her once more. “I… hm. I guess.” She continued to stare, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to look for something.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” Natasha began, glancing back down to finish bandaging the wound. “I merely wished to find out more about you. You’re rather different from the others I’ve met.”

“... I don’t talk very much.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

Marisa said nothing more, and Natasha focused on finishing her task instead. Once she was done, she wiped the sweat off her brow and looked over at the myrmidon, who still continued to watch her.

“… well! If you do not mind, Marisa, I would still like to talk to you.”

“Really?” Marisa’s brows went up with surprise. “Why would you want to talk to _me_?”

“Because I’d like to know more about _you_ ,” Natasha answered earnestly. “You are more beyond the Crimson Flash, Marisa. Ah, but I don’t mean to intrude. If you truly do not wish for my company, I will understand.”

Marisa stared at her once more, and this time, Natasha felt the weight of it bearing down on her. It felt like a very long time passed before Marisa answered.

“… fine,” she finally said in that terse way of hers, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile, thinking that the answer was something that only someone like Marisa could give.


End file.
